


Laguna Seca, 2013

by Roadstergal



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Communication, Gen, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Pain, Racing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thoughts on a cold morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laguna Seca, 2013

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaychel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaychel/gifts).



It was always cold in the morning, at Laguna.  A heavy coastal fog would saturate the air and the ground, leaving a chill that went deeper and deeper into Mike's bones every year.  He zipped his coat up all of the way to his neck, breathing in the steam off of his coffee as he went down to the garage to check on the bikes, yet again.  Not that there was any rush - Dani would not be going out int he first session.  This was the strategy, the one Dani and Alberto had come to; a tricky track, as Mike always thought of it, not helped by the changeability from the cold, slick mornings to the warm, grippy afternoons.  Dani knew his lines, so he would save his strength for qualifying, for the race.

The garage door was closed, the garage dark, the bikes sitting quietly, obediently, shining dully orange in the faint light.  Tools, like him, waiting to be used, but he envied their calm placidity.  Laguna was a track with no rest, nothing but work, and to ride it that hard, that on the edge, with a concussion and an injured collarbone...

And Dani couldn't hide his discomfort from Mike. English was the only language they had in common, and it had proven quite inadequate, in those early days when Dani was a young and too-serious boy in a far too serious sport.  They had developed another language, a language of few words, many gestures, of eyes and of bodies, a language that was now very quick and natural to both of them.  A language that was meant for communication, not lies, white or otherwise, so any discomfort Dani had was immediately obvious to Mike, and his bigger injuries, his broken bones and torn tissue, had come to hurt Mike almost more than they did Dani...

 

* * *

 

"Ah, there you are." Puig leaned into the garage, blinking as Mike's small, slim figure came into focus in the dim light. Of course he would be visiting the bikes, all restless and purposeless.  His obvious infatuation with Dani was often helpful, but sometimes a pain in the arse.  "You could have slept late."

"I couldn't sleep."

Of course he couldn't.  Puig would have to find some way to occupy the man for a few hours, now, on top of everything else.  "Come with me." He turned, not waiting to see if Mike would follow - of course he would, tagging to Puig's heels like an unusually obedient dog.  Odd to see someone who has been in this business so long being so un-touched by it, in some ways. There wasn't a political or cynical bone in the man's body, just his devotion to the job and his ridiculous affection for Dani.

It was almost adorable.


End file.
